


Living the Dream

by lornesgoldenhair



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornesgoldenhair/pseuds/lornesgoldenhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set seconds after the conclusion of Last Christmas, this is gratuitous celebratory smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living the Dream

 

The TARDIS door had barely closed behind her but he was already on the move. She on the other hand just wanted a second to take it all in, reality this time, not a dream, the reality of standing in the ship with its sights and sounds and smells; and the reality of him, whole and real and solid, and currently as excited as a child on… well Christmas day.

He spun ahead of her and came to a sliding halt by the console, grabbing the monitor and pushing it in her direction, punching a few buttons, hand hovering on a lever.

‘So where’s it to be, Clara?’ the Doctor said cheerfully, his eyes bright and dancing over the controls, ‘Your choice, anywhere you like, anything you want,’ he looked up at her where she stood a few paces from the TARDIS door, her broad smile mirroring his. ‘We should celebrate,’ he expanded with an energy she had rarely seen in him, pure joy lighting up his features. God, that smile, where had he been hiding that smile?

‘Yes, we should,’ she agreed stepping closer, ‘We should definitely celebrate,’ Clara looked up at him and slid her hands down his arms to meet with his, ‘Not every day a girl gets a reprieve from being ninety, a chance to start over.’

His lips twitched at her proximity and he looked away from her shyly but she noticed he allowed her to keep a grasp of his hands.

‘Powerful things, dreams,’ Clara went on, ‘tell you a lot about a person…’ he was still looking away and she took a tiny step closer to him still, her nightie brushing against his coat and hoodie. ‘Do you think it’s possible to lie in a dream?’ she asked, her head cocked. That drew his eyes to her.

‘What?’

‘Can a person lie in a dream? I mean it’s a person’s subconscious isn’t it, you’d think it would be harder to lie?’

‘You’re probably right,’ he conceded, his tone hesitant.

‘So you know it was the truth,’ Clara squeezed his hands, ‘What I said about no-one measuring up to Danny… except one man.’

His eyes flicked away again and he seemed to try to clear his throat. ‘It was a projected future, Clara, you still don’t know what lies ahead of you, who lies ahead.’

Clara sighed, ‘Oh no you don’t!’

‘What?’ his eyes widened in alarm.

‘Well it didn’t take long for you to start rationalising did it? I’m not having that,’ her hands came up his arms a little and she gripped him like a vice. ‘No, listen to what I’m saying. Take it from me, only one man comes close, one… impossible… man.’

‘You also said it would never have worked out because he was so impossible,’ the Doctor said quietly. There was the slightest hint of humour in his voice underlined by a great deal more sadness. His joy was giving way to his trademark discomfort and after what they had just been through there was no way she was going to let him slide back there and lose this opportunity.

‘Second chance,’ Clara said simply, ‘Don’t waste it. We can rewrite the story. We’ve already started to… we’re here aren’t we? Together again? We just need to change our direction a little…’ she let her body move against his subtly, noting that again he didn’t pull away.

He looked at her cautiously, his lips slightly parted. She could see that he was utterly torn, the warmth of her against him forcing his body to war with his conscience, ‘Clara, we can’t…. you don’t mean…no… that’s not how we..’ but she was already reaching up for him, her hands sliding up the lapels of his coat and her fingers reaching the back of his neck. She tugged and made him bend towards her, pushing her hips tighter against his in a bid to guide him.

‘We start this as we mean to go on, Doctor,’ she said softly, her face close to his, ‘That means honesty, that means taking what we felt in those dreams and running with it. Tell me how it felt.’

He swallowed, ‘It was awful…’

Clara blinked. ‘Which part?’

‘The idea of losing you… no…. not just that…. The feeling of missing you… missing all of those years… of leaving you….’

‘Keep going,’

‘Clara…’ he shifted against her, tormented.

‘Keep talking… tell me…’

‘I thought you would be happier,’ he said, ‘if I left,’ he chanced a look at her and Clara met his gaze with her own steady brown eyes and an expression that told him he was an idiot. He looked away.

‘And I thought I’d be happier somehow too, if I didn’t have to watch the years tick by and then watch you... die…,’ he growled in frustration with himself, ‘You humans with your short lifespans, I keep getting attached and then losing you and it keeps happening again and again and I was certain I couldn’t cope with that one more time, especially with you… but… the dream made me realise being entirely without you it would be worse. I’d rather have that time…‘ he ran one hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes, fighting his emotions.

Clara watched him struggle, ‘We can have that time, Doctor, it’s all waiting for us.’

‘But you deserve more, Clara, better, than crashing about in a blue box with me for the rest of your days. All the things you wanted, a husband, a family, your life, you need that, you deserve that.’

‘I do, yes,’ the fingers of one hand were in his hair now, gently wrapping curls around their tips. The Doctor seemed to falter under the touch and his eyes closed as she took to stroking his cheek with her thumb. ‘But maybe I made some mistakes too. I wanted it all, all the normal things _and_ the man in the box. Maybe what I should have realised is that I want all the normal things _with_ the man in the box.’

He shook his head against her touch, his eyes still closed, ‘That will never work, Clara,’

‘Won’t it?’

‘I don’t do normal,’

‘Don’t you?’ Clara tilted her head and looked over his face, ‘When was the last time you tried… no wait… when was the last time to let yourself? I’m not suggesting you knuckle down and get a desk job, or that we buy a nice semi-detached with a picket fence…’ he turned his head away with a smirk.

‘No…’ he said wryly.

‘But I think we can manage a relationship,’ Clara said, feeling him tense under her fingers at the word. ‘One that’s… more than it is now.’

Cautiously he turned to look at her again and Clara was suddenly very conscious of the line she had just asked him to cross. But they were already almost there, pressed against one another, her arms around his neck. They had already said it to one another, more or less in their shared dream, in the bedroom when she finally woke. Few words and fewer pointed looks had guided them to this point already. Just a little further and…

She felt him place his hands on her hips hesitantly and her skin tingled.

‘Clara… if we do this….’ His voice was low and she could feel it thrum in his chest against her. He closed his eyes as the last of his willpower did battle with what she asked of him.

‘If we do this… I’m…not going to be able to go back to how it was,’ he said.

‘I know,’

His grip on her hips became tighter.

‘If I have even a little of you I won’t be able to stop,’ he was closer than ever now, his voice a breath in her ear.

‘Doctor…. Please…’

‘That’s always been my fear,’ he murmured, ‘That I can’t stop…’ he slid one hand up her back, the other pressing her pelvis against him. His fingers slipped into her hair and he tilted her head under their guidance. ‘I can’t stop…’ he said again, to himself, to her, his tone begging.

‘You don’t need to…’

‘Clara…’ he breathed and at last she felt his lips against hers. For a moment the kiss was soft and slow, matched by the feel of his hands on her body, the long strokes of his fingers on her skin, through her hair. Clara pressed closer to him and through the thin material of her nightie felt his torso tense against her. Then as though the pressure from some great engine had been released she felt him shift, urgency flooding his kiss, his movements becoming harder, more erratic as he tightened his arms around her and held her fast to him. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, his lips capturing hers with little tugs, his fingers raking across her skin, gathering her nightie in bunches and using it to haul her even closer. He pushed her hard against the console and with panting breaths began to kiss down her neck.

Clara gasped and felt her skin burn under his touch, his need pouring into her like flames. He was suddenly stronger, harder, more masculine than she had seen or felt him be before and something primal in her woke desirous and desperate. In his arms she leaned back against the controls and hitched her legs around him causing him to grind down and pin her beneath his weight. One arm holding her steady the other travelled up over her nightie to cup at her breast tweaking her nipple through the fabric and making her squeak against him. She heard him growl happily through his smile and the sound made her own smile broader. Clara held him tighter then, encouraging him to kiss harder at the crook of her neck, over her collarbone, the sensation somewhere between exquisite pleasure and pain. He nipped at her skin and then suckled it, his tongue at once soothing and stimulating.

She could feel him hard and thick between her legs and pushed down against the material of his trousers in frustration causing him to jerk uncontrollably into her with a moan that resonated at her neck.

‘Too… many layers…’ she panted out as her hands went to the edges of his coat. He shrugged out of it and her fingers went to the zipper of his hoodie but he grabbed her wrists and hauled her up.

‘Not here,’ he said breathlessly and tugged her towards the door. Clara wondered briefly if the TARDIS had done them the favour of moving his room closer, somehow detecting the urgency of her occupants, because before Clara had a chance to regain her breath they were through the door and into his bedroom, lips closed over one another’s again and this time when her fingers undid the zip he didn’t hinder her.

They tangled in the wool of his jumper beneath.

‘My god… how many layers do you need?’ she complained, tugging the clothing up and letting him take it the rest of the way, yanking it over his head before reaching back for her. There was still one layer to go, a T-shirt below the jumper but Clara was struggling without his touch even for those brief seconds. He guided her back until she bumped against the edge of the bed.

‘It was cold…’ he said, something twinkling in his eyes.

‘You don’t feel the cold…’ his hands were making their way down her sides, bunching the material of her nightie within their fists. ‘Oh God….’ Clara said suddenly, ‘Wait… wait…’

He looked at her curiously but paused in his ascent.

‘I’ve nothing on under this,’ Clara whispered.

‘Good, that makes this a lot easier,’ he replied with barely concealed amusement. He tugged the nightie up a little more but Clara’s hands came down and held it fast, her cheeks suddenly red.

‘I can’t believe this is the first time we’re doing this and I’m dressed in a winceyette nightie. I’m about as sexy as my gran,’ Clara moaned.

‘Then your gran is surprisingly sexy… but can we leave her out of it?’ he said, the tremble of restrained laughter growing in his voice. Clara placed a hand over her eyes, ‘Why can’t I own sexier nightwear?’

‘Clara, take the nightwear off and we won’t have this problem,’ he suggested. She peered at him through her fingers bashfully, ‘Clara,’ he said dropping his tone a little so that his accent purred, ‘You are beautiful, utterly… completely beautiful…’ he leaned into her so that he could whisper, ‘Show me how beautiful you are… please.’

Something about the need in his tone persuaded her and she remembered a flash of their shared dream.

_Clara Oswald you will never look any different to me._

Her lips twitched and she crossed her arms, pulling the nightie upward and over her head until she stood exposed before him. She felt the nerves flutter in her chest, the weight of his eyes on her as he drank in her body, her skin tingling as his gaze passed over her skin.

‘Oh, Clara,’ his words came out as a low rumble laced with desire. The Doctor flicked his eyes back up to meet hers and took a pace forward bumping against her. Clara felt suddenly smaller, more vulnerable and it felt good. He bent and kissed her again this time exploring the soft skin of her back and sides with his fingertips, smoothing down her ribs and brushing his palms over her hips. She heard him groan into her mouth needily.

Clara’s hands came up under the front of his T-shirt and he quickly took her hint, removing it before pushing back against her skin on skin. She realised suddenly that she was making tiny noises of need herself as they kissed, her body squirming to be closer to him, aching to take him inside of her and join them. She pulled away and climbed backwards onto the bed before scooting up it and gesturing for him to join her. She watched fascinated as his gaze darkened hungrily, taking in the curves of her naked body on top of his sheets, on _his_ bed. She held out her hand and waved him forward again and at last he approached her, coming to a halt between her legs, kneeling there and looking down over her body. He placed his hands on his belt buckle and began unfastening it.

She felt a shot of excitement run through her as he worked to undo his trousers and Clara swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly dry. He never moved his eyes from her even as her gaze flickered down to his waist and watched as he flipped open the belt and button, moving to the zipper. She had the urge to reach out and do it for him but at the same time there was something utterly mesmerising about the usually restrained Doctor exposing his arousal to her. She felt herself bite down on her lip in an effort to keep some control, her breath picking up as he removed the last of his clothing and knelt before her, hard and ready.

The Doctor leaned forward slowly, placing his weight on either side of her and allowing his lower body to press against her. Clara slipped her arms around him again in relief, dragging him to her, kissing him hard, feeling his erection slip against her wet centre. The motion sent an uncontrolled thrill through her body and she ground up against him unbidden.

‘Gods, Clara,’ he muttered by her ear. She kissed his face and allowed herself a glimpse of him, his eyes shut and a slight flush across his cheeks. He was utterly beautiful and she felt a rush of emotion as she watched him, his hips moving against her instinctively as he lay on top of her. She wanted him so much, she had never wanted anything more. Clara ran her hand quickly down his back until it came to rest on his hip, nudging him slightly in the direction she needed, opening her legs a fraction more. He bent his head against her, a slight frown moving over his features as he found his way and then she felt him push forward, her body opening to him finally and a low moan coming from her lips.

He paused inside her, his nose nuzzling her hair in a tender movement, lips grazing her earlobe before his hips moved long and smooth between her legs. Clara keened under him, her fingers tangling in his hair and holding him to her as he thrust gently into her. She became slowly aware of him whispering to her in a voice heavy with emotion.

‘I missed you…. I missed you…. so much…. Clara…’

Her on lips found his neck and as she kissed she felt him shudder, heard him gasp, his pace quickening inside her as the tension coiled in her abdomen and tendrils of arousal began to unfurl along her limbs. Clara felt her back arching beneath her in a luxuriant wave of pleasure as he pushed deeper, her body alive with each touch of each part of him, melding them together. She could feel herself letting go, giving way, trusting him to carry her further, to take her to her conclusion.

He quickened and she was so close, his movements becoming rougher, less regular, more driven by instinct. She could feel him fighting to keep some form of control, his muscles working against him, driving him onwards to a different goal.

‘Clara…’ his voice was deep at her neck, heavy with arousal and touched by desperation, ‘I can’t…. can’t…’

‘Don’t stop… you don’t have to stop…’

He was struggling with words now, thought coming to him with difficulty, just want and release and the desire to bridge the two, reach what he needed. She felt his hand suddenly grip her hip holding her tight while he drove into her and the sensation tipped her, caused her to throw her head back and her body to spasm under and around him as orgasm shot through her, from her core to each tightening peripheral muscle.

‘Doctor!’ he voice panted hoarsely, any other words lost to her moans, and at last as though waiting for her signal she felt him convulse over her, a harsh shout forced from his lips as he thrust powerfully into her waiting body.

Clara couldn’t let go of him. He pulled out of her but slid only inches down her body before lying panting against her chest, eyes closed. She wrapped her arms around him and held him there, leaning her cheek against his thick hair, letting it tickle her nose, breathing in the scent of him. There were tears trickling from the corners of her eyes and a soft smile on her lips. Eventually he wriggled and insisted on facing her, his brows furrowing almost immediately.

‘You’re doing the thing,’ he said with concern.

‘What thing?’

‘The sad smile thing. Only this time there are tears too.’

Clara’s smile widened a little, ‘Happy tears,’ she explained.

He looked dubious. ‘Happy tears? Really? Because quite honestly they are frightening the life out of me at the moment.’

‘Happy. Tears,’ she confirmed, ‘I’m happy.’

‘But crying?’

‘But crying. It happens. It’s a good thing, don’t worry.’

He scooted around her until he could hold her against his chest, ‘If you say so,’ he said doubtfully, twisting a hand through her hair. ‘You’re the expert.’

‘I am.’

‘You know if you’re sticking around, which you are…’ she nodded against him in reassurance and felt him breathe out with relief, ‘Then I’m probably going to need some sort of manual of human emotions.’ Clara snorted.

‘You’re not that bad,’ she remarked.

‘I wouldn’t want to misinterpret,’ he said.

‘I wouldn’t let you… I’d soon set you right.’

‘Yes I suspect you would.’

Clara yawned, ‘I’m sleepy.’

‘How can you be sleepy? You’ve been unconscious with a dream crab on your head for goodness knows how long.’

‘You wore me out,’ she said.

‘Oh….’ She could hear the smile in his voice, ‘Well then….’

Clara snuggled further into his embrace and allowed herself a contented smile when he closed his arms around her and held her tight. It would appear that in moments of post coital bliss at least her Doctor was not completely averse to cuddling.

‘How do I know this isn’t a dream too?’ she mumbled.

‘It isn’t,’ the Doctor replied with certainty.

‘How do you know?’

‘Usually by now I’ve woken up….’

 

 

 

 


End file.
